


Redshift

by bowiesnippleantennae



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Canon Compliant, Enemies to Lovers, Keith is in a bar fight club, M/M, Post-Canon, Pre-Kerberos Mission
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-03
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-01-28 18:09:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12612388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bowiesnippleantennae/pseuds/bowiesnippleantennae
Summary: This isn’t so much a story of falling in love but denying yourself that happiness until it’s completely slipped out of your grasp. Going out of reach until it’s just another dot in the night sky.Keith starts at the Garrison with one thing in mind: fly. Fly far away from everything and everyone holding him back. What he gets instead, is an overly doting mentor and a crush bigger than the Milky Way Galaxy.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> babby's first sheith.  
> i've hardly read any sheith. i just recently got into it as a ship and then this idea came to me while i was on the toilet (like most great ideas do) and i started writing it in my head and now here we are.  
> this is fun. keith is fun to write. he's a little whipper-snapper and it's great so i hope you enjoy reading this as much as i did writing it! comments are appreciated!

Meeting Takashi Shirogane is like looking at the sun and that sun is about to supernova, taking out you and everyone in a 28 lightyear radius. It’s like watching a gamma beam shoot out of a black hole. Stunning and terrifying. And just like a black hole, he blocks out all light around him, making you hyper focus on just him, the words he’s saying, and how his eyes stay on yours like you’re just as important. Polite and dangerous. Because Keith can tell, just by looking at him, that he got where he is through hard work. He’s been through all the training, all the schooling, all the internships. And he came out on top, TAing and waiting for his first big mission.

Takashi Shirogane is probably equal parts awe-inspiring and the most annoying human being Keith has ever had the displeasure of meeting.

This isn’t so much a story of falling in love but denying yourself that happiness until it’s completely slipped out of your grasp. Going out of reach until it’s just another dot in the night sky.

 

* * *

 

“Mr. Kogane, per special request by the state, we have a junior instructor that will be helping you get acquainted to our way of doing things, here at the Garrison. I know it’s not something you’re used to -- discipline and morality --” Keith’s gaze instantly snaps to the man sitting across from him, one eye closed and lips pulled back in a disgusted sneer. “But with a little help from some of our most talented staff, I’m sure you’ll fit in just nicely.” He ends his condescending verbal back-patting by sliding a form across the table with just the tips of his fingers. “All we need is your signature.”

Keith takes the pen from Iverson and clicks the top, popping the nub out, all while glaring daggers at the man in front of him. This school is prestigious. It’s getting him out of the desert. It’s helping him move forward. There’s no reason to look a gift horse in the mouth. That’s what he keeps telling himself, at least. If the Commander is this much of a dick, he can only imagine what the _junior instructor_ is going to be like.

Iverson goes on about the possible rankings, the types of physical and mental training he does for his students but Keith zones out about there, opting to glance around the room, bored out of his mind and just wanting to get on with his courses. The sooner he can get off the ground, the better.

“Oh, good timing.” Iverson says, standing up from his desk abruptly and startling Keith out of his reverie. He’s only stunned for a second before he’s turning in the plush leather seat and making eyes with whomever caught the Commander’s attention -- big, saucer shaped eyes, he’s sure. Because what he sees isn’t a human, but an Adonis, standing tall and broad in the doorway. He only looks confused for a second before his expression is instantly schooled into something more akin to surprised happiness and professionalism.

“Commander.” The god among men says, squaring his shoulders and clapping his ankles together in attendance. “You wanted to see me?”

“Yes. Come in, come in.” He motions for the man to walk in and he does, but only after a short hesitance that Keith catches instantly. So, it’s not just a Keith-thing to instantly hate the Commander. It must be commonplace at this school. “This is the student I was telling you about.” Keith doesn’t like how he says this like it’s some big secret as to how Keith got accepted into the Garrison. He also doesn’t like his business being shared with just anyone. Government facilities… He should’ve known.

“Keith Kogane.” The man says, giving Keith a soft smile. Keith instantly recoils.

“That’s the one. Mr. Kogane, I’d like you to meet our newest Junior Instructor, Takashi Shirogane.”

_Oh._

“Just Shiro is fine,” He says, bashful. Keith stands, humbled by the idea that he’s going to be stuck with this specific junior instructor until he’s allowed to be left alone like a _normal_ student. That thought isn’t so damning now. He takes Shiro’s outstretched hand and gives it a firm shake, noting the soft skin and equally firm grip. The man is a walking contradiction.

“Then, just Keith is fine.” He says as a reply. Smooth. Shiro just smiles brighter at that and Keith checks that off as a score. Get the hot TA to like you and maybe you’ll be free from under constant surveillance sooner than later.

“Well, now that you’ve met I’m sure Mr. Shirogane won’t have any issue giving you a quick tour of the grounds before your orientation.” Iverson says, smiling sweetly and making Keith roll his eyes. Dump him on someone else, Keith’s seen this tact before. When Keith takes a quick glance at Shiro, he’s met with the same, genuine smile, crescent eyes that bend lovely across his chiseled features.

“It would be my pleasure.” He says, polite and amicable. The perfect junior instructor. Keith wants to gag.

Shiro leads Keith out, letting him through the office door first and waving good bye to the Commander who calls out a warning that Keith can definitely hear. His shoulders tense instantly.

“This is another one of those Seaholme Kids. Keep an eye on him.”

Seaholme was where Keith grew up until he was old enough to live on his own. That’s code for, “we can’t afford to keep feeding you, you’re more trouble than you’re worth, and your late father left you a shitty house so, we’re still in charge of everything you do but you have to feed yourself now.” Non-profit, Keith’s ass. They take in the worst of the worst, children abused by parents, left in houses alone with _missing_ parents. Orphans through death and disease. But the fact of the matter is, Seaholme is overcrowded, understaffed, and falling apart.

Either way, As soon as he turned of age, they mailed him a list of possible “Next Steps” in his life. There was the Navy, the Marines, the Army, and the Garrison. Only one of them had piloting as an option and Keith didn’t really think there was anything else on this planet for him.

On his application, when asked which major path would he be interested in taking the most, he wrote “Fighter Class or bust.”

A half year later, he’s walking down the hall with a junior instructor who feels more than looks awkward over the situation.

Shiro guides them through the various training decks, pointing out the skill levels of each and which classes focus on what. Keith learns that Fighter Class has the most intense training regiment which Keith is pleased with. He also finds out that Iverson is the main instructor for those sessions which Keith is not as pleased about. Shiro instantly notices his mood sour and chuckles, eyes crinkling with the same mirth.

“I don’t like him, either.” Shiro says, a glint of something like childlike secrecy in his eyes. Like this is a little thing between just them. That he’s already that comfortable with Keith. He doesn’t understand it at all so Keith does what he usually does when someone is being friendly with him, he huffs and crosses his arms.

The Galaxy Garrison has a plethora of facilities for the advancement of space exploration and travel. Along with the physical fitness training grounds, there are flight simulators, a mess hall bigger than any room Keith has ever been in, a state-of-the-art communal bathroom, counseling center, classrooms, dormitories, and multiple loading docks for the various crafts they house. There’s a ground control station, a satellite field, and a fully-stocked weapons department, because it wouldn’t be a government-owned operation without one.

They’re sitting at one of the large tables in the mess hall, which is really just a cafeteria with a lot more metal -- everywhere -- when Shiro asks Keith about himself. It’s not like this happens often, so all things considered, Keith feels rather earth-shaken.

“My story?” He asks, intelligently. Shiro just smiles through it.

“Yeah, why the Garrison? Why fighter pilot? You know, your _story_...” He presses on, gently. Keith feels obligated the answer, not because Shiro is his superior, but because he looks genuinely interested. That makes Keith wary, like he needs to be on his toes. He didn’t need to be on his toes with Iverson. Iverson acted exactly how Keith expected him to act. Shiro on the other hand, is kind and thoughtful, but not a pushover. He’s an enigma if Keith’s ever seen one before.

“Seaholme put me here…” He says, eyeing Shiro from his plate. The food isn’t half bad. He’s had worse. Shiro just keeps smiling that same, grating smile that doesn’t flicker even when Keith glares at him, nose scrunching up in annoyed confusion.

“But why’d you agree? You must have something you want to accomplish here?” He leans back, all comfort and nonchalance, and he crosses his arms across his broad chest. Keith’s eyes follow the movement before he snaps them back up to Shiro’s face.

“I don’t know…” Keith mumbles with a one shoulder shrug. He can deny it all he wants but his walls are shaking under the earthquake that is this junior instructor.

Shiro doesn’t seem the least bit deterred. He just takes another bite of his casserole -- ugh, even the food he chooses is so good ol’ boy -- and blinks innocently. “Was there anything else you wanted to do instead of the Garrison? Any dreams or aspirations?”

“No. Just want to fly.” He grumbles before his brain can catch up with his mouth. He blinks down at his plate, having startled himself but Shiro just chuckles.

“Well, then it’s a good thing you chose the Garrison, huh?” He says, pointing his fork like a finger at Keith. Keith just glares back at him. “Best flight school in the country.” He stops to take another bite but Keith is overeating, feeling much too awkward to do anything but begrudgingly answer Shiro’s questions. “So, why Fighter Class?”

Keith takes a long, drawn out, a little bit dramatic sigh, just so Shiro gets the hint that he’s not really into this whole small talk business. “Because why not? It’s better than commercial flight. Cargo shipping…”

“Mm. True.” He says through another mouthful, his plate almost empty at this point which is a stark contract to Keith’s own plate. “But those majors have their own merits.”

There’s a lapse of silence and Keith gets the inexplicable urge to ask his own questions. “So which one were you, Mr. Junior Instructor?” He’s expecting to hear something lame _like_ cargo class or commercial, but Shiro just beams an award winning smile at him as he replies.

“Deep Space Exploration.”

“Like going to planets and stuff? Didn’t count you for a scientist…” He eyes up and down Shiro’s muscled arms, one of which stretches up as he scratches the back of his head, bashful.

“Me? No, no, no… I’m not really cut out for that kind of work. But I can fly the ship filled with scientists and equipment. No hassle, no extra math classes. Just me, my cockpit, and open space.” He gets a distant look in his eyes as if he’s seeing his dream manifest right in front of him. Keith can’t relate. He’s reactory. He’s instinct. He’s not plan and make lists and think things through. He’s act now or regret it later.

“Sounds boring.” Keith bites back the smile that pulls at his lips as Shiro’s perfect smile falters for the first time since they met, face falling in shock hurt.

“It’s not!” He counters, brows pinched and pout contrasting on his masculine face. It’s cute… “Once I get my first mission, I’ll be off flying in the stars while you’re still finishing your gen eds.”

So, he’s got some bite in him? Keith can work with that.

“That sounds like a challenge.”

“Will that get you to do well and listen to your instructors?” Shiro says with a hopeful smile on his face, eyes suddenly bright with optimism. Keith feels sick to his stomach.

“Who says I wouldn’t, anyway? Is it ‘cause I’m from Seaholme?” That wipes the smile right off Shiro’s face and he stutters, taking back what he said but it’s too late, and this is a perfect opportunity for Keith to make his getaway. “Thanks for the tour.” He says flatly, standing up and grabbing his unfinished meal.

“K-Keith, wait!” But Keith’s had enough socializing for the day. He knows where his room is thanks to Mr. Student-of-the-Month. He’ll figure the rest of it out without his help.

 

* * *

 

Keith doesn’t really have the time or patience to make friends. He learned at a young age that other people are only on your side when it’s convenient for them. Any other time and it’s a blind eye, a bloody nose, or in Keith’s case, detention -- often. So, it should be no surprised that when Keith walks down the corridors of the dorms, his peers are faceless to him. Why waste time making friends when you’re just here to learn and get the fuck off Earth?

He spends the first week going to class, going to training, and ignoring everyone around him save for the instructor. But even that’s a stretch. It’s not like anyone goes out of their way to get his attention, anyway. So it’s not skin off his nose. The smoother the next few years go, the better.

The only issue is the persistent Junior Instructor who seems to have made it his life’s goal to seek out Keith at any given time and strike up small talk. It would be more annoying if he didn’t seem so damn genuine about it. But, Keith knows that _Shiro_ knows that he’s a Seaholme kid. Nothing can really change that, or the pitying glint in Shiro’s eye when Keith mentions not making any friends.

 _Not yet,_ Shiro had added to the end of Keith’s statement.

 _Whatever helps you sleep at night,_ was Keith’s cold reply. Even that he takes, like a shitty punch to those unquestionably chiseled abs. _Ugh_.

And it’s not that Keith doesn’t enjoy socializing. On the contrary, he’s had friends in the past! Shitty, short lived friends, but friends nonetheless. It’s just, he’s a little older now, a little wiser, a little more parentless, and he doesn’t have time for this shit right now. Not with half-assed conversation and definitely not with pretty eyes, a jawline that could slit a throat, and the broadest chest he’s ever seen on another human being.

They’re all distractions.

Keith can make his own distractions, he doesn’t need help in that department. He has his own ways of decompressing after a long first week at school. And it’s not asking Shiro about the weather and it’s definitely not with the big lug that’s in the room next to his with his annoying, twig of a roommate.

Usually, when Keith has had enough of everything, and he has all this pent up energy and nowhere to let it out, he goes to this hole-in-the-wall speakeasy that’s just north of his house. It’s in what should be, for all intents and purposes, a ghost town; it halfway looks like one. And in that town, there’s a bar that his dad used to visit on his rare days off, on the nights where things were just too much for him, when he couldn’t hide it from Keith so he left to hide it in a bottle of beer instead.

It’s that same bar that Keith would sneak off to when security at Seaholme was down. He’s been there so often, they know him. They call him Ken’s son. Not the most creative name he’s ever been called but he’ll take it. It’s nice to know that he at least looks enough like his father for people to recognize him.

He doesn’t go there to get smashed, though most people who have found out about his little escapades assume that -- or worse -- but he goes there because it reminds him of his dad in a way that the house doesn’t. It’s nostalgia without the hurt. It’s old floorboards that creak and bar stools that don’t spin around as well as they used to.

It’s underground fight clubs where Keith is a reigning champion.

But, that part’s not important.

What is, is that Keith would give anything to break out of this place, borrow a hover bike, and earn some extra cash. Not that Keith lives extravagantly, he just likes to go fast. And when he’s on his own, some day, he’s going to want something that’s all his as soon as possible, without waiting for the Garrison to find him work, like Shiro.

Keith’s going to be ready and once they open those metaphorical gates, he’s going to be out of there like a hellcat in heat.

 

* * *

 

It’s a Friday when Keith actually perks up and listens to something else another cadet has to say. He’s leaning back in his chair, drumming a pencil on his textbook while he works on his physics homework. There’s a group of students sitting behind him in a circle, attempting work and failing. He wouldn’t tune into what they are saying if one of them hadn’t mentioned sneaking out.

“Don’t lie, Lance. You did not leave grounds after curfew. You’re full of shit.” One says, she’s short, and a know-it-all who shoots her hand up before anyone else’s during lecture.

“You can think that all you want, little lady, but I was out on the town last night, cruisin’ the streets and pickin’ up chicks.” Keith can physically feel the smarm coming off the guy. He groans softly and straightens up in his seat.

“You know I love you but you definitely did _not_ pick up anyone last night. Where would you even bring them? Back to the dorm? I was studying, Lance.”

“W-well, you know. I brought them, uh… a-around…” Keith smirks as his demeanor crumbles.

“Right.”

“Sure.”

“Anyone heading to the mess hall soon?”

“Hey! I did sneak out! It’s true!” His voice goes increasingly high pitched with his frantic attempt at getting the others to believe him.

“Oh yeah? Prove it.” One retorts. Keith can feel his ears perk up at that.

“Yeah, how’d you get past Iverson and the rest of security?” The same girl from earlier asks, her voice thick with curiosity.

There’s a beat of silence before he hears the same guy say, voice low and conspiratory, “Alright, but you better not go snitchin’ to anyone. I’ll know it was one of you…”

Keith hears the chairs creak as they all lean in. Keith’s leaning back in his chair himself to make sure he can hear it, too.

“You know the last simulation, the one furthest from the door?” Keith can see them nod from his periphery.

“The one you keep crashing?” The same girl as before says without missing a beat. Keith bites back a smile as Lance scoffs at her, dramatically.

“I don’t crash it, Rachel. I land it with style-” He retorts.

“My name’s Joanna.”

“Well, on the far side of that simulator, there’s one of those giant air vents, yeah? It’s a little loose. I noticed it on the first day-”

“What were you doing sneaking around the simulators on the first day?”

“-and so I kinda, took a knife from the mess hall-”

“Stealing, too?”

“- _And,_ I loosened the rest of the screws. Turns out, it leads into random rooms -- classrooms or something -- but if you keep following them, it’ll lead you to the top of the training building and on the side of _that_ building, is a ladder down. Boom.” He finishes, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed and one ankle propped on the other knee.

“Wait… How did you find time to figure all of this out?” Another cadet asks. Keith can see him fidgeting nervously from the corner of his eye.

“Eh, you know. Lots of places have stuff like this. I’m the youngest in a huge family. I can’t be afraid of wiggling my way out. I bet I could break out of ISS, if Iverson can ever catch me.” He brags. Keith rolls his eyes with a sigh, closing his book and gathering his papers, holding them under an arm, ready to leave now that he has what he wants.

“Hey-!” The same guy yells out. Keith wants to believe that he’s not talking to him but to one of his lame friends, but Keith knows better. Just ignore him.

“You better not snitch on me either, mullet!” Keith ignores that, too as he walks across the room away from the group.

“Don’t you walk through that door!” He commands and that makes Keith smirk, at least. If anything, the guy’s a total goofball. He won’t make it through this program alive.

 

* * *

 

True to that idiot’s word, on the far side of the last simulator, there is a vent that is crooked on its posts. The corners of it have scratches and chipping from Lance’s previous “nights on the town.” Keith pulls out his own knife, one he didn’t have to steal from the mess hall and pries open the vent, placing it quietly to the side and crawling into the vent.

The vent is narrow and the air is crisp as the air conditioner kicks on. Keith’s happy he’s wearing his own clothes for this, not that he’d be stupid enough to leave the facility in his cadet uniform.

The air duct leads him to a small classroom. He pops open that vent too and places it back in its spot, making his way silently across the room to the door. He sneaks through the hallway, ducking behind corners and slinking under office windows until he gets to the door that leads to the roof of the building. It gives way easier than Keith expected and he hopes that means no one else it up there but he’s made it this far and he needs _out,_ so if he has to start fighting sooner than the bar, so be it.

There’s a rock wedging open the door at the top of the staircase and Keith can feel the breeze of the chill desert night howling through the opening. He takes his knife out again, ready to defend himself while he kicks open the door with much more force than it calls for. He’s met with an empty roof, a sky filled with stars, and a chill wind, whipping around his air.

Finding the ladder down to the ground isn’t hard, either. It wobbles under his weight but he drops down, a cloud of dust flurries around his boots and he’s running.

The wannabe ghost town isn’t a ghost town because half the staff, mostly janitors and adjuncts, _Junior Instructors_... live there. So it’s not so far that Keith can’t make it there in less than ten minutes if he runs but not close enough that the regular people who live there stumble on Garrison property and are met with a few assault rifles in their face.

The bar is exactly how he left it. A few months prior to his application getting accepted, Keith was here, fighting for some cash and leaving with a fat wad and a bloody nose. He likes the money part, not so much the bleeding but for some reason, whether his body likes to take a beating or just good genetics, he never stays too hurt to come back the next night. Or the night after that. He recalls his best streak being a month in a row.

“Why, is that Keith?” The barkeep calls from behind his chrome station. He’s filling a glass with something that glows green, the hose wiggling with the strength of the spray.

“Yeah, I’m back.” Keith chuckles, taking a stool at the bar.

“I thought you’d be at that fancy school already. What’d you doing here? Shouldn’t you be studying?” The old man jokes, Keith laughs at that, feeling elated and comfortable.

“Yeah, but you know how I am. Can’t keep me cooped up for too long.”

“Mm, your dad said the same thing,” The man says, nodding a bit. Keith perks up. “Said you’d give your mother grief every time he was away. And when she was off doing her thing, you’d be giving _him_ grief. Climbin’ out of your crib and gettin’ into everything.”

“Sounds like me…” Keith says softly, his face rounding out with his wide smile. He can feel it stretch his skin and it feels alien. Has it been that long since he’s smiled like this?

“Kogane!” A booming voice calls from his right. He turns the stool as far as it will go, legs spread wide and elbow propped behind him on the bartop.

“Harrison.” He says back, all calm and cocky. Harrison’s a big man. Like, a big, _big_ man. He’s giving Keith a run for his month in the fights. But Keith is a firm believer in speed trumps all, and he’s got a lot of energy stored in his legs. Plus a lower center of gravity.

They shake hands, pulling each other in by those hands and slapping each other on the backs.

“You come here to fight or woo the fellas with those pretty looks of yours?” Harrison says, hands on his hips, chest puffed out.

“Ahaa… I’m just here to get out of school for a night.” He starts, glancing back at the barkeep. “But… If there’s a fight tonight, well. You know I can’t say ‘no’ when you ask me nicely.” Harrison throws back his head and laughs a booming laugh, the others around joining in and Keith just keeps on smirking.

The fights don’t happen in the main room of the bar. They’re taken to a back room that leads into a warehouse where they keep the majority of the draft beers and other liquors. The middle area of the warehouse was cleared out long ago and that’s where the fights happen. A holo board floats just below the ceiling and that’s where the nights betting takes place.

Keith leaves his jacket behind the bar, safe. Along with his knife. He won’t be needing it. Not because it’s against the rules, but because he literally won’t need it.

The crowd fills in quickly, this being the most excitement this town ever gets, which is why it happens so often. Some nights are better than others when it comes to crowd size and quality. Some crowds get rough enough to join in as a mod, themselves. Other crowds bet too defensively, those are the nights when no one wins. Either way, Keith’s here for two things: an emotional release through physical activity and _moola._

When it’s Keith’s turn, he walks out into the ring, adjusting his gloves and eyeing his opponent, sizing him up and planning out his first moves. Not that he needs to plan much, but this opponent is pretty easy to read. His left ribs aren’t protected like his right side is. He’s right handed, then. His knees lock when he stands, easy to topple over.

And just like that, a jab to the left ribs, a swinging kick to the back of the knees. He falls face down and Keith stomps by the side of his head, taunting him to get up. He doesn’t and it’s an easy win for him. The crowd cheers but he knows that they didn’t expect anything less. Not from him.

He works through a few more guys, all different body types, all ending in the same manner, face full on concrete and a boot stomp much too close to a nose, or an ear. Enough to get the point across.

Keith’s six fights in when he’s finally paired up with Harrison. He’s had a few breaks while they work through the roster. He pulled off his shirt after the last fight and wiped his face with it, the sweat caking his hair to his neck. He’s handed a water at one point, which he dumps over his head and a beer the next. If there’s already illegal fighting, then what’s one underage drink among sweet, bloody, men?

Keith chugs the beer even though he hates the taste.

It’s not like any amount he’s ever drank has gotten him drunk.

Someone’s massaging his shoulders as he waits for the call for the fight. Harrison is across the way, joking with someone and throwing out that same booming laugh.

“He just had knee surgery not too long ago.” They say in his ear. Keith nods. “His ATL is weak.”

“Got it.”

It’s dirty, but that’s how these things go. Someone is probably telling Harrison that because Keith’s been in school, he hasn’t been keeping up with his workout regiment. That Keith’s gotten soft in his time away. Well, joke's on him. Keith’s anything but soft.

There’s a mechanical _ding_ that alerts the two fighters to enter the ring. They eye each other down, this not being their first fight. Keith’s already feeling the adrenaline pump through his veins. Harrison is a worthy opponent. The others were just warm ups.

“You’ve been away too long, Kogane. Haven’t seen what I’ve been doin’ to fellas here, lately.” Harrison says, walking in a circle. Keith follows suit, keeping the same distance from him and watching him carefully. He’s not into the whole talking before a fight thing, but he knows that it gets Harrison riled up and the crowd loves it so he lets him finish his little speech before he decides to attack.

“Hope that school of yours hasn’t made ya soft.” He sneers and Keith _so_ called it. He knew the rumors would fly as soon as he got accepted into the Galaxy Garrison. He rolls his eyes which Harrison must think is a mistake because then he’s charging towards Keith, arms bend and hands ready to grab and grapple. His signature move.

He just has to catch Keith first.

Keith ducks under Harrison’s left hand and gives him two quick punches in the ribs before rolling out of the way as Harrison swings both his arms around to try to catch him. Keith, landing in a kneel, jabs his fingers into the back of Harrison’s hurt leg, feeling the softer flesh give way before jumping back to watch Harrison growl in pain. That’s not enough to stop him, just gives Keith enough time to put distance between the two of them.

He bounces on the balls of his feet, keeping himself limber as Harrison pulls around to face him again.

“You’re fightin’ dirty already?” He grunts. Keith can see the mirth literally leave his face as he starts to get serious. Keith gets into a crouched stance, brows low and pinched in the middle.

“Just trying to win.” Harrison charges again and Keith rolls out of the way, pushing off from his crouched position and punching with all his might into Harrison’s lower back, just missing the kidneys. “Tch!” He’ll have to try again, a little higher, next time. He’s sure Harrison will charge _again_ anyway.

What he doesn’t expect is for Harrison to instantly reach behind him and grab Keith by the shoulder, pressing his fingers into the pressure point there and making Keith cry out in pain. He grabs at Harrison’s forearm, fingers slipping off his wet skin and feet kicking at the ground.

“Gotcha.” Harrison says, something dark in his eyes.

That’s when Keith freaks. He doesn’t freak often. But sometimes, when he’s rusty, or not feeling too active, or against someone who really gives him a run for his money, he freaks. That’s what the guys at the bar call it, at least. They say he gets this crazy look in his eye, like a cornered animal. And his lips pull back unnaturally. That’s usually when the fight turns in his favor.

With a loud snarl, Keith digs his fingers into Harrison’s forearm, pushing at the tendons and making him pull his hand back, Keith tumbles to the floor and rolls away, his back already scuffed up from the cement, tiny pebbles clinging to it from his sweat. He holds his hands out to the side, electricity running through him, ready to leap at the drop of a hat.

Harrison is rubbing at his hurt arm as Keith massages his shoulder, both waiting for the other to make their next move. It’s only when Harrison crouches down a little that Keith is moving in a flash, skidding around him and trying for a kidney punch again. His aim feels true, this time. Like he can sense where the weakest points on Harrison’s body are. He jabs with one hand then goes for the side of his injured knee with the other, falls back on his hands and kicks Harrison square in the back with both feet before hopping up and standing while the crowd roars around him.

Keith shakes his head, rubbing at his temple, feeling the drop in adrenaline, the freak-out subsiding, and noticing the lump on the floor across from him that must be Harrison.

He’s about to go over and ask if he’s okay when someone is grabbing his wrist and thrusting his hand in the air, announcing him the winner and the crowd goes wild.

 

* * *

 

Keith enters the bar with a posse of yelling, drunk, slightly wealthier men at his tail. He hands the ticket of his earnings to the barkeep who puts them in the register. He goes into a back room for a moment and returns with a card containing all of the money Keith won tonight and his folded up jacket and knife.

“Wish I could’ve seen it, myself. Haven’t heard the crowd go that nuts in months.” He says, jovial, eyes crinkling at the corners. Keith smiles, bashful and takes his things from the old man.

“Felt good to be back.” He says, pulling his shirt off of his shoulder and wiping the sweat from his face.

It’s at this moment, with the black cloth of his shirt obstructing his sight, that he hears the shrill sound of a glass shattering on the floor. There’s some clattering as people scoot away from the mess and Keith pulls his t-shirt away from his face to see what happened.

If he were a glass bottle, he would have shattered too.

Sitting at the far end of the bar, back leaning against it, hand open as if something were in it and a smattering of brown glass shards around his feet, is none other than Junior Instructor Takashi “Fucking” Shirogane.

“U-uh…” Keith says, feeling the blood rush to his face. He holds his belongs close to his chest, covering the skin like it’s indecent. Shiro’s eyes flicker down for a moment before they look back up at him, round like saucers. It’d be hilarious if Keith wasn’t about to shit himself. “Sir?”

“K… Kei… Uh, I mean. Kogane.” Shiro says, after glancing around for a split second. When his eyes snap back to Keith’s there’s a coldness there. One that says, “boy, you fucked up.”

At that moment, someone starts to sweep around Shiro’s feet, snapping him out of his glare. He lifts a foot, face going back to innocent as he stutters out an apology. Keith thinks it’s his time to slink out while Shiro’s busy, lose him in the crowd of people but Shiro instantly snaps his gaze back up at Keith, stopping him in his tracks. He’s done for. He’s expelled and everything he had planned is now trashed and he’s going to have to start from scratch, live in that shack, alone, with nothing but the card in his hand, if the Garrison even lets him keep that.

“We’ll talk about this in the morning.” Shiro says, marching up to Keith and placing a hand on his shoulder. It’s soft and gentle and not what Keith is expecting. He had flinched, as if that would hurt anymore than the punches thrown at him in the ring. He blinks up at Shiro with owl eyes.

“O-okay.”

“Now, clean yourself up and tell me how you got out of the dormitories.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays everyone!
> 
> here's the chapter. a little longer than the first and completely on accident and let's hope this keeps up! I did some art for this fic and if you haven't seen it yet, you can peep at it [here](http://bowiesnippleantennae.tumblr.com/post/167503075137/thanks-for-coming-to-the-stream-heres-my-beaten)!
> 
> love getting comments, love getting those kudos, come talk to me!  
> [tumblr](http://bowiesnippleantennae.tumblr.com)  
> twitter

If Keith thought the way to the bar was fraught with high stress, anxiety, and a constant looking over the shoulder-- well, he’s thinking again. Sneaking around to get out of the Garrison doesn’t even hold a candle to the walk of shame he’s having now. Shiro is a quiet, unmovable column next to him as they trudge over small dunes while the cold night air whips around them. Keith pulls his jacket closed, hugging himself. He’s not sure if it’s to keep the chill night air out or close himself off from Shiro even more.

Knowing himself, which he unfortunately does, it’s probably more the latter than the former. Keith doesn’t get cold very easily.

Keith can see the Garrison slowly rising over the last dune before they reach the facility grounds. It looms over them, a big black smudge blotting out the night sky. Keith used to dream about being behind that fence, behind those walls. Now, he’s dreading if he’ll ever be able to enter the school again. His entire future now hangs in the balance of this relative stranger and he’s not really keen on it. Shiro stops at the fence, looking up at it, where it stands over 20 feet above them. He slowly looks back at Keith, a stern knit to his brows. Keith swallows thickly.

“Did you climb this?” Is all he asks. Keith blinks owlishly before looking away.

“No.” Is all he says. He won’t say more unless prompted. Shiro’s his superior, after all, a superior that’s caught him outside after curfew in a bar where he’s too young to be drinking, and too much under the government’s eye to be illegally fighting for profit.

“Is there an opening?” He asks, sounding less angry and more curious. Keith looks back at him, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. There’s a moment of silence before Keith sees Shiro’s shoulders visible slump as he lets out a sigh. “I’m not going to bust you, Keith. I just want to know if there is one so I can get it patched up. This is a government facility and we have weapons on campus. A hole in the fence could mean danger for the students and faculty here.”

That… isn’t what Keith was expecting. He gives Shiro a wary look, not sure if he should give away the only route out of the grounds that he knows.

Shiro sighs again, a hand on his hip and another rubbing at the back of his neck. His head is hunched forward like he’s had the weight and stress of every instructor on site jumping on his shoulders. A modern day Atlas. Keith tries not to notice how his biceps bulge in his shirt or how the fabric stretches across his chest.

But Keith also never had much of an impulse control.

“I know you don’t trust me right now,” He says, looking up at Keith through his lashes and Keith swears Shiro is giving him puppy dog eyes but that could be the moonlight, and it could be Keith’s wild imagination-- “But, I wasn’t exactly supposed to be there, either. We both have something to hide from the Garrison.” He stands up straighter, a small, little confident smile on his face. “So, it looks like we both have something on the other one.” He winks-- he god damn _winks_ at Keith and he can practically feel his heart skip a beat. This isn’t normal. Keith doesn’t usually feel tongue-tied and bashful around people. His face burns a little around the cheers and he absently wonders if that’s what blushing feels like. He’s not embarrassed, though. He’s just looking at Shiro who’s giving him a way out-- no berating or reprimanding or threats.

Keith blinks a few times. “Wait… What?” He says eloquently. Shiro smiles that same, crescent moon smile and chuckles a little.

“I won’t tell anyone you snuck out tonight if you don’t tell anyone _I_ snuck out tonight. Deal?”

Well, he couldn’t have put it more plainly than that. There’s still a big part of him-- Keith thinks, about half-- that is screaming at him not to get distracted by his pretty eyes or perfect smile. That he should rat the guy out before he has a chance to get ratted on himself.

Keith watches Shiro’s outstretched hand and thinks, _this guy sure does shake hands a lot._ He looks back up at Shiro, whose smile hasn’t faltered the least bit as Keith takes his time deliberating.

On one hand, this could be an elaborate trap to get Keith expelled. Shiro’s all cleancut and top grades. In the short week, Keith’s been at the Garrison, he’s learned that Shiro is a little bit of a legend. Having scored the top of his class in all subjects. He could literally be anything at the Garrison. He could outrank Iverson in a few years if he really put his mind to it. There’s no reason he should be making a deal-- one that goes against the rules-- with some orphan, problem child who fights for the thrill of it more so than the money. And yet…

Keith takes his hand and feels that same soft skin over firm grasp that he felt the first time they met days prior and thinks both times, he’s been sealing away his fate to this man.

Keith leads them to where he slipped through to get out of grounds. It’s not so much a hole as it is a natural opening in the fence. Something that wouldn’t have been noticed otherwise. Shiro takes out his phone and makes a note of it before pocketing it again. He sighs, before glancing over at Keith with that same, easy going smile he seems to always have.

“Well, I can’t squeeze through that.” He says, like he’s telling a joke. Like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever said. Keith rolls his eyes.

“Move.” He brushes passed Shiro and slips sideways through the opening, looking at Shiro expectantly from the other side of the fence. “Ta da.” He says with as little gusto as he can muster. He’s surprised to hear the answering laugh bubble up from Shiro.

“Okay, that solves that mystery.” He says with a chuckle. Keith feels like folding in on himself again and he’s not sure why.

Feeling a little vulnerable on the opposite side of the fence, Keith slips back through and runs his fingers through the back of his hair before palming at his neck.

“So, uh… How’d you get out?” He instantly regrets the question as soon as it leaves his mouth, visibly wincing at his own stupidity. Smooth, Kogane. Real smooth. That’s the conversation equivelent to ‘come here often?’ and you just said it to your hot junior instructor who caught you illegally fighting in a bar outside of the Garrison after curfew. God, the more he thinks about it, the more fucked he feels.

Shiro, though. Shiro just takes it like it’s a normal fucking question and Keith doesn’t know if he should be thankful or annoyed.

“I don’t live in the Garrison. Like, not inside. I’m in the town over, you know, where we just were?” He says, nudging Keith with his elbow and wiggling his eyebrows like they have some huge secret between them and it’s making him giddy. “I can leave my house whenever I want to, but it doesn’t look good for a Garrison employee to be slinking around to the bars at night.”

Keith blinks at that, after rubbing the arm that Shiro nudged. “Wait… so, you don’t have a curfew but they don’t want you at a bar in your own town?” He asks, incredulous. Shiro nods at that. So, he can see why this can be an issue for both of them if word got out.

There’s another beat of silence before Keith’s big mouth betrays him a second time.

“Why were you there, then?”

Shiro flinches slightly before smiling, bashful as he rubs his hands through his hair. He takes a deep breath and lets it out through his lips in a rush.

“To be honest, you gave me a Hell of a week, you know.” He glances at Keith for a moment to read his reaction, probably. Keith’s still too shocked to decide which emotion that makes him feel first. “You’re not easy. They told me you wouldn’t be, but I’ve never given up on someone. And you’re not a bad person, Keith.” He stops walking then, prompting Keith to also stop. “The world’s just been bad to you. You have some trust issues, and I get that.”

“Okay, well thanks, Dr. Phil…” He feels vulnerable, again. But this time it’s distinctly bad. Like when someone calls you out on all of your weaknesses and they somehow know the ones you’ve been trying to hide the hardest. It shows you that you haven’t hidden them well enough and that opens up a whole new can of self-hate.

Yeah, Keith doesn’t like being psychoanalyzed.

Shiro holds his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “I know, I know. This is probably the last thing you ever want to hear, but you asked. I just needed something to take the edge off. I’m sure you can relate.” He says that with knowing eyes and that doesn’t make Keith feel weak so much as it makes him feel a little giddy.

He can’t really blame the guy, if he’s being honest. And besides, dealing with him was no cakewalk, either. He tells him as much.

“Yeah, well. It’s not like I just had new classes to deal with. I also have a mother hen up my ass through the day, _every day _...” Keith shoots back with a punctuating look. Shiro throws his head back and laughs. It’s a little infectious.__

__“Looks like we’re even again.” He says after a moment, wiping at his eyes._ _

__“Fine by me.” Keith says, but there’s no bite to it. He’s chalking it up as post-laugh contentedness and it being so late._ _

__“Are you going to be okay sneaking back _into_ the dorms?” Shiro asks, concern painting his features. Keith rolls his eyes with a sigh. _ _

__“ _Yes, dad.” Shiro sputters at that but then laughs again, shoving Keith playfully. Keith just laughs, liking the contact, wanting it to be a little rougher. Maybe he didn’t get it all out of his system tonight.__ _

___“All joking aside, I can’t really help you back in without getting you in trouble, so let’s count this as a warning, okay? I don’t really like condoning this, but you need to get back undetected.” Shiro places his hands on Keith’s shoulders and it steels Keith, gives him a sense of serious determination. It’s reflected in Shiro’s own eyes._ _ _

___“I definitely don’t want to get caught, either…” Keith says with a nod. “Well, a second time.” And just like that, the tension breaks and they’re giggling again. It feels childlike and pleasant. Neither of those things is normal for Keith, but it feels normal with Shiro. That’s a scary thought he’ll log away and never revisit._ _ _

___Shiro makes sure one last time that Keith isn’t going to screw this up and get himself caught. Keith reaffirms that he will not screw this up and get himself caught. Shiro watches him slink through the opening in the fence, having looped back around as they talked, he stays until Keith is at the far end of the field, climbing the ladder. He looks over his shoulder to see Shiro’s tiny form waving like the goof he is. But, he lets himself smile at that fact. Shiro’s too far away for him to see it, anyway._ _ _

___He traces the steps backwards, remembering it like he had it written on his arm. He maps it in his mind, locking that memory there instead of the ones of Shiro’s wind chime laugh, or the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles, or how he was genuinely concerned for Keith’s safety._ _ _

___Yup, those memories will be deleted to make room for important ones. Like escape routes and formulas for class and flight patterns he’ll need for the fighter class entrance exam._ _ _

____Deleting. . ._ _ _ _

___Aaaaand _done_._ _ _

* * *

___ _

___“Get ready with that stabilizer, Io’s atmosphere is coming up,” Keith commands. There’s no point waiting for a reply, if his peers want to pass, they need to do their jobs. Keith grips the tiller as he hears the blip of the stabilizer shift gear. The simulator jostles as it fake-hits the outer atmosphere of Jupiter’s moon._ _ _

___Jupiter was the first planet Keith ever saw through a telescope. He knew they were big, knew they were an unfathomable distance away and that it would be impossible to land on the surface of any of the planets in the solar system. He knew because he read it in a book, found on a shelf in the playroom of one of his foster homes. It wasn’t new -nothing in that place was new- but it was lived in and loved._ _ _

____Jupiter’s the biggest planet in our solar system and it’s far, far away. It’s a gas giant. Jupiter has many moons. Io is the fourth largest of Jupiter’s moons._ _ _ _

___He always figured that maybe Io was the most important since the book mentioned it so much. It never occurred to him that maybe that was because of the page before it and the page after it had been ripped out._ _ _

___“Stabilizers are… stabilizing?” the guy says, Keith’s not sure of his name but he sounds unsure and his voice is a little bit wobbly. Keith glances back to make sure he’s okay because, quite frankly, he sounds like he’s about to pass out._ _ _

___“Alright, and what about navigation? Have you hailed the runway tower? Do we have clearance for landing?” He asks, eyes skitting to the side towards the other classmate he doesn’t know the name of._ _ _

___“Clearance granted, sending coordinates for runway now.”_ _ _

___“Got it, we’re going to take this nice and smooth.” He says. This is his least favorite part. Not because it’s hard, none of this shit is hard. Keith could do this with his eyes closed, just feeling the tug and push of the steering with his fingers. As lame as it sounds, it’s his least favorite part because that means the experience is over. That he has to say goodbye to the cockpit and deal with Iverson’s critiques._ _ _

___The simulator only shakes a little bit as they make their fake landing on the Io Lunar Base. The screen blips out for a moment before a staticy “Mission Accomplished” shows up on the screen. Keith unbuckles his holster and stands, turning to his crew. _Who he should really get the names of since they’ll be doing these simulations together for the rest of the year_. He’s greeted with warm smiles of a job well done and it’s… It’s kinda nice. _ _ _

___“Well, well, well. Looks like Seaholme finally sent us something promising.” Iverson says, almost under his breath but Keith’s gaze is snapping towards him in an instant as he follows his crew out of the simulator._ _ _

___Seaholme is a shithole. Keith knows that, Keith would be the first person to throw that building and every criminal running it under the bus if he ever had the chance, but something about Iverson- pompous, gloating Iverson- talking shit about his home, about the quality of the children it churns out…_ _ _

___It makes Keith’s blood boil._ _ _

___In fact, Keith’s about to give Iverson a little lesson on how corrupt the adoption system is when a hand lands on his shoulder. He’d have spun around to throw a punch at its owner if the strong squeeze and the deep, velvety voice that follows it didn’t send his bones melting and his temper simmering out._ _ _

___“Good job, Keith. You’re one hell of a pilot.” Shiro says, eyes bright and smile wide. Keith can only blink up at the man. The whiplash of pure spite and hatred turning to gooey bashfulness almost too much for Keith’s limited emotional compass to handle._ _ _

___Keith would be lying if he didn’t admit that that makes his chest swell with something akin to pride. Anything that gets Shiro’s attention outside of their normal relationship of student-and-mentor sends Keith’s blood buzzing with excitement. He’s not sure if this is just because, for the first time in a while, he’s connecting with a person, at least on the surface, or if it’s just hormones running amuck thanks to bulging muscles and soft eyes. Both of which should not exist simultaneously on one human being._ _ _

___“Thanks…” Keith mumbles, all the fight leaving his body. Shiro and Iverson exchange glances, Shiro’s eyes crescenting as he smiles and Iverson, grunting an acceptance before turning to the other students in the class, ushering the next crew into the simulator._ _ _

___“Alright, Flight Team Alpha, you guys did really well out there. Obviously, mission accomplished,” Shiro says with a head tilt, hands clasped behind his back, making his suit stretch over the expanse of his chest. “But no one’s perfect.”_ _ _

___Keith notices the girl next to him stiffen. He can’t stop his eyes from rolling. Shiro’s a goof. He’s a pushover. If any of these guys knew what Keith knew about Shiro, they wouldn’t be quaking in their boots._ _ _

___Shiro takes a moment to scan the three cadets, letting the suspense build a little. Keith fights the urge to huff, incredulously._ _ _

___“Graham. You sounded a little nervous in there.” He starts, his eyes landing on the student to Keith’s left. “And your insecurities kept you from hitting your mark with that stabilizer. You were a second late. The ship wouldn’t feel any rumble from hitting the atmosphere if you had been ready. Keith shouldn’t have to remind you of your job.” Graham withers under Shiro’s words and nods, slightly. Keith’s eyes are about to pop out of their damn sockets._ _ _

___“And Natalie,” Shiro says, turning to give her a stern look. She salutes for some reason. “At ease,” He says with a chuckle. “You’re getting better at your reaction times, as well but there’s always room for improvement. Like Graham, you shouldn’t be waiting for cues from your pilot. You should be paying attention to everything that’s going on in the cockpit if you’re going to make a safe journey. Wait too long and it won’t be such a smooth landing.”_ _ _

___“Yes, sir…” She says, hanging her head. She misses shiro’s soft smile._ _ _

___“Now, Keith.” He says after straightening up and shooting that same, professional, stern look Keith’s way. Keith has to bite down the grin that’s beginning to spread across his face. It’s just _so_ funny to him. If there’s one thing Keith’s learn is that Shiro’s personality is the opposite of his looks. There is nothing that Shiro could tell him that he doesn’t already know about his performance in the simulator. He’s probably just doing it to save face and not let the other students catch on…_ _ _

___“I think we all know that you’re pilot material. You impressed not only me but Commander Iverson. Good job.” Keith puffs his chest out a little more at the praise, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks but training his face to stay stoic. Shiro eyes him for a moment before shifting his weight to one foot, crossing his arms across his chest. “What’s his name?” He says, out of left fucking field._ _ _

___“Huh?” Keith says, intelligently. Shiro just smirks, eyes bright and waiting. Keith stumbles a little, look at his crew members who are staring at him expectantly as well._ _ _

___“His name. The engineer on your team.” Shiro explains. Keith looks to the guy on his left and wracks his brain. Shiro had _just_ said his name. This shouldn’t be an issue. This is honestly easy mode, and yet… _ _ _

____What the fuck is his name?_ _ _ _

___“U-uhh…” Keith stutters, taking a thick swallow as the three wait for him to say _something_. “Garrett?” He tries, wincing at how unsure his voice sounds. _ _ _

___Shiro blinks before sighing and shaking his head, exasperated for some reason. Keith doesn’t know what the big deal is. It’s just a name of someone who he wouldn’t be flying without outside of this one class. He tilts his head, looking as confused as he feels._ _ _

___“Keith. You need to know the names of your crew members. These cadets are here to help you. You’re here to support them. You’re a unit. A _team_. You can’t get through this program alone. You can’t do every job on the ship alone.”_ _ _

___Keith blinks once. Twice. Their _names_? That’s his critique? Their shitty names? _ _ _

___“Wh--” Keith stumbles again, this time with anger creeping up his back. “What does that have to do with my flying? It’s a simulator! I did what was needed and landed safely.” He says, voice rising. The other cadets, the ones he doesn’t know the stupid names of, step back a little, looking just as shocked as Shiro does. That is, until Shiro’s thick eyebrows slam down, creased in the middle of his forehead as his eyes turn stern._ _ _

___He’s _mad_. Too bad Keith’s mouth hasn’t gotten the memo yet. _ _ _

___“Are you flying with the other graduates you had your first year?” Keith asks, Shiro just stares at him. “I didn’t think so.” he concludes a moment after Shiro’s answering silence. “This is such a waste of time.”_ _ _

___Keith turns on his heel before that same strong, warm hand grabs his forearm with a new, unwavering strength that Keith would be in awe of if he wasn’t so fucking pissed._ _ _

___“Let me go, or--” He begins but the hand just turns him and loosens slightly._ _ _

___“Or you’ll what? Fight me?” Shiro says almost under his breath and his face is close, intimately close, much closer than they should be. And he’s smirking that shitty smirk that does _things_ to Keith’s stomach. Then the words hit him and he’s scowling but all the fight has left him and he’s huffing out, more annoyed at how easily Shiro can calm him down and less about the actual threat that was. _ _ _

___“Whatever.” He grumbles and Shiro smiles, a job well done._ _ _

___“Alright, cadets! I’m not done with you, yet.” Iverson’s raspy voice cuts through the tension and Keith is ushered back into the crowd, leaving and overtly smug Shiro behind him._ _ _

* * *

___ _

___There’s a few hours between the last classes of the day, dinner, and curfew where the cadets are allowed free time to do as they wish within the confines of the Garrison._ _ _

___Keith’s overheard some girls talking about meeting up at the computer labs, others talking about some lounge-- Keith doesn’t remember where-- groups of cadest, friends, walking through the halls for some other place to hang after all of the days responsibilities are taken care of._ _ _

___Keith leaves the mess hall and heads straight for his room. There’s no reason to study. It’s still too early in the year for anything like that. He’s got no one to video call. He’s already eaten dinner and it’s still too early to shower. So, to his room, he goes._ _ _

___“I heard Shiro’s going to be at my flight simulation tomorrow.”_ _ _

___Keith perks up at Shiro’s name._ _ _

___“First off, it’s _our_ flight simulation. And secondly, doesn’t that _freak you out_?” Another voice says, squeaking at the end. “I mean, it’s _the_ Shiro! You’ve been pissing yourself over him since you found out he was going to be an instructor.” _ _ _

___“Okay, I have _not_ been ‘pissing myself’ over him. I’m just…” There’s a long pause, Keith is starting to wonder why he’s standing around the corner, eavesdropping on these two just because they’re talking about Shiro. “Looking forward to blowing him away.” _ _ _

___“I dunno, Lance…” The other voice says, sounding incredulous. “I heard there was another pilot that actually did that today.”_ _ _

___“What?!” _Lance_ squawks. Why does his name sound familiar…? “Where’d you hear that? I bet it was just some crummy rumor. There’s no way Shiro, _THE_ Takashi Shirogane, would be impressed by any of these bozos thinking they got a shot…” _ _ _

___“Nah, I heard from Arthur who heard it from Jessica who’s in the class where it happened. The guy’s in Graham’s team. He said that it was the first and only mission accomplished in the class. He said that even Iverson was impressed.”_ _ _

___“Tch.” Something about the annoyance in that guy’s voice and the inadvertent compliment to Keith shutting his cockiness down puts a smile on Keith’s face._ _ _

___“Whatever, They haven’t seen _me_ fly yet, is all I’m sayin’...” _ _ _

___“You’ll show ‘em tomorrow, Lance…”_ _ _

___Good thing Keith’s not in that class. He’d probably be laughing his ass off and getting sent to detention for disrupting class._ _ _

___“Wh- What the Hell are you doing here, mullet?” Keith’s met with Lance’s angry, very blue eyes and a shocked look on his friend’s face. “Sneaking around? Eavesdropping?” Lance gets in his face and Keith clenches a fist to keep himself from shoving Lance away._ _ _

___“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Keith grits out between clenched teeth. That just seems to fan the fire as Lance reels back._ _ _

___“Just trying to rub salt in the wound, huh? Think you’re going to get it easy here ‘cause you impressed some of the teachers?”_ _ _

____Well, yeah.__ _ _

___“No.” Keith says, a bored look on his face for good measure._ _ _

___“Hey- Lance… Come on,” His big friend says, looking around nervously. Probably because they’re about to cause a scene._ _ _

___“No, Hunk. This guy’s a total dick! Look at him!” Lance spits, gesturing to Keith with a flippant flick of his wrist._ _ _

___“What’s that supposed to mean?” Keith bites back, offended for some reason?_ _ _

___“You know exactly what it means!” Lance says, poking him with one of those long, thin fingers._ _ _

___“Stop sticking your finger in my face before I break it off.” Keith growls, batting his hand away._ _ _

___“Oh, now you’re threatening me?” Lance says, a smile on his face, looking like he’d win whether they got in a fight or not. It _really_ pisses Keith off. _ _ _

___“Lance-!” Hunk whispers loudly, placing a hand on Lance’s shoulder. Keith ignores it._ _ _

___“It’s a warning…” He says with a devilish grin that should send Lance high-tailing it out of there if he knows what’s good for him._ _ _

___Lance pokes him again and Keith’s hand whips out like a viper, grabbing his fingers in a vice grip and twisting his wrist slightly. Lance’s other hand grabs at Keith’s as he howls in pain, bending his knees to squirm out of Keith’s grib. Too bad his grib is ironclad and not letting go until Lance takes back everything he says and keep’s Keith’s name out of his mouth._ _ _

___“Oh shit…” His friend says, the color leaving his face. Keith blinks at that then senses the large, looming presence behind him. Slowly, he turns his head and sees a very angry Shiro glaring down at him._ _ _

___“Ahem.” He says, clearing his throat and cocking a thick eyebrow._ _ _

___“Uh…” Keith says, dumbly. It takes Lance a moment but then he’s catching on that he has a fucking savior and that Keith’s probably going to get his ass handed to him, in the academic sense._ _ _

___“Mr. Shirogane! Oh, thank God you’re here!” He whines, wrist twisting and hand writhing in Keith’s grasp. His hand’s starting to get sweaty. “I-I don’t know what happened but Keith suddenly grabbed my hand and he’s going to brEAK IT!” He shrieks the last part as Keith’s grip tightens and he twists Lance’s wrist even more in warning._ _ _

___“Keith.” It’s a booming sound that makes Keith need to obey. He decides that he hates this side of Shiro. “Let him go. What do you think you’re accomplishing?”_ _ _

___Keith obeys, but only after glaring at Lance and smacking the hand he was holding away._ _ _

___“There. Sorry about this, Lance.” Shiro says, giving Lance a smile that Keith wishes were directed a literally anyone else._ _ _

___Lance is rubbing at his wrist glaring at Keith before aiming that same glare at Shiro. “Yeah…” He mumbles. The other guy looks like he’s about to pass out._ _ _

___“Keith.” He bumps Keith with his elbow which sends him stumbling forward._ _ _

___“Oof!” He glares over his shoulder at Shiro who just smiles innocently. He’s really going to make Keith apologize when Lance was the one talking shit and couldn’t handle someone standing up to him, isn’t he. “Really, Shiro?” There’s that eyebrow cock again. Keith’s concedes. “Ugh… _Fine._ ” _ _ _

___“Well, hurry up, _Keith_. Aren’t you sorry?” Lance sneers, his nose scrunching up in disgust. It just makes Keith want to punch him more. His fists clench and he can feel his lip pulling back in a snarl when Shiro clears his throat again and he’s deflating. _ _ _

___“...Sorry.” He grinds out, eyes not leaving Lance’s face. Like Hell he’s going to back down physically even if he has to apologize._ _ _

___“And…?” Shiro asks, nudging Keith again._ _ _

___“Won’t happen again.” Keith manages to say. Lance looks him up and down, looking more scared of Keith’s clenched fists now and not whether this will happen again. Keith knows, deep down, that if Lance gets in his face again, he’ll throw hands. And all of them will lance on Lance’s stupid, cocky face._ _ _

___“There we go. Now, where are you boys headed?” Shiro asks, a steadying hand clamps down on Keith’s shoulder and he holds back a wince. “Lounge? Library? Get a leg-up on that studying?”_ _ _

___“No, Mr. Shirogane, we were actually going to the mess hall.” The other guy says, looking bashful. “I usually volunteer in the kitchen if they let me. Gives me something to do and keeps Lance out of trouble.”_ _ _

___“What trouble?” Lance mumbles, his eyes haven’t left Keith’s._ _ _

___“Sounds great! Curfew’s in an hour and a half. Don’t let the monitors catch you.” Shiro says, all white teeth and crinkling eyes. He’s going to get crows feet early on, Keith thinks. He’ll be a silver fox, for sure._ _ _

___“What about you, Keith?” Shiro asks, smiling down at Keith, catching him off guard. Keith’s eyes widen at their proximity and he stumbles over his words a little, not really remembering where he was coming from and what he had planned on doing after._ _ _

___“Uh,” Is all that comes out and Shiro chuckles._ _ _

___“Why don’t you hang with me for a while. I’ll keep _you_ out of trouble.” He suggests, giving the big a guy a wink. It makes him laugh and Keith blush even harder. _ _ _

___“O-okay…” Keith mumbles, blinking down at his feet. He misses the look Lance gives him and that’s probably for the best._ _ _

___“Alright boys, well. Have a good night. I’ll be seeing the two of you bright and early tomorrow for drills.” Shiro says, glancing between the two of them. Keith keeps his eyes trained on the floor. “And Hunk,”_ _ _

___“Mm?” the big guy, _Hunk_ hums. _ _ _

___“You’re going to be fine. Don’t sweat it.” Keith can practically hear the smile in his voice. It grates on his already frazzled nerves._ _ _

___“Yes, sir.” Hunk says with a salute._ _ _

* * *

___ _

___Shiro steers him through the halls, not saying much of anything and it’s kind of starting to freak Keith out. Is he in trouble? Is he taking Keith to the dean? To the president? Is Keith about to get expelled?_ _ _

___They take a few corners and Keith is legitimately lost. He’s not sure where they are in comparison to any of the rooms and hallways he _knows._ Whatever is about to happen, when it’s over, he’s going to need to be led back. _ _ _

___Shiro stops them at a large sliding door and fishes out his ID card from his pocket, swiping it on the scanner and the doors hiss open. Behind that door is a gym and it’s then that Keith notices what Shiro’s wearing. He’s in tight, black leggings, a muscle shirt, streamline sneakers, and there’s a towel around his neck._ _ _

___Of course, all Keith can think to say is, “There’s a gym?”_ _ _

____Duh Keith. It’s a military school. Of course there’s a gym._ _ _ _

___“There sure is. I like to come here to take the edge off in more… healthy ways.” He says with a wink, walking into the gym and unclasping a water bottle attached to his belt. Keith takes a moment to admire the view before he’s jogging to catch up._ _ _

___“I’m not really…” Keith begins before he almost runs into another gym goer, dodging them and then catching up to Shiro’s confident stride again. “I don’t have the right clothes for this…” He tries again._ _ _

___“You’ll do fine.” Shiro says, walking up to a machine. “Pick a muscle group you wanna work on and then choose a machine that’ll get you there.” He says matter-of-factly._ _ _

___Easier said than fucking done. It’s not like any of his foster homes had a gym. Not like they’d shell out the money to get some orphan a gym membership, or bring him there as a guest, or even ask him if he wanted to run around the block. It’s not like Seaholme had a gym of its own, either. This gym-- it’s the first and nicest one he’s ever seen and man, he doesn’t really know where to start._ _ _

___Shiro must sense his confusion and lets the weights fall with a loud _clank_. _ _ _

___“Here.” He says, walking over to where Keith is standing awkwardly. “I know you have some muscle on you, already. What do you think would help you get a lot of that pent-up rage out?”_ _ _

___“Uhm.” Keith looks down at a hand as he picks at his nails. “I-I don’t know. I guess, maybe, uh…” He scans the room and his eyes land on a machine with a long, slightly bent handle. “Maybe that one?”_ _ _

___It’s not that he’s nervous. He’s just… Shiro throws him off. He pops up when Keith least expects it. He says things to Keith that, deep down Keith always wanted to hear but never did. It makes him second guess his own feelings. Is he reacting the correct way? Would Shiro make fun of him if he found out Keith didn’t go to something fancy like a gym to get the physique he has now? Or would he understand and help Keith find something that will suit him?_ _ _

___“That’s good for your shoulders and lats. I think that’s a good fit for you. Don’t push yourself,” He explains, walking over to the machine with Keith. “How much can you lift?”_ _ _

___“Uh, like… maybe, at least 50 pounds…” He pulls the number out of his ass. He doesn’t know the weight of the things he lifts. He just lifts them._ _ _

___“‘Kay…” Shiro says, bending over and putting a metal rod into the weight that reads 50 lbs. “Try that. Just grab the ends and pull down._ _ _

___Keith does that and the weight flies up, smacking the top of the machine and then dangling as Keith stands there, eyes wide at how simple that was and Shiro, looking like he just saw a fucking ghost._ _ _

___“O… kay…” He says, jaw a little slack. Keith just continues to stand there, pulling down on the bent bar, not knowing what to do or if that was okay or if he fucking broke the damn thing. “Looks like that’s not enough weight for you…”_ _ _

___They try a few more weights until Shiro sighs, hands on his hips and rod in the last weight, making it the heaviest the machine can give Keith. Meanwhile, Keith hasn’t broken a sweat yet._ _ _

___“You’re a beast,” Shiro says with a laugh. Keith smiles a little bashfully at that. “I mean, you’re a lot stronger than you look.”_ _ _

___“Yeah, I get that a lot.” He grunts as he pulls down the bar again, starting to feel a little bit of a burn in his back. “Never had a…” He grunts again “Way to measure it before.”_ _ _

___“You’re tellin’ me…” Shiro says under his breath and he looks like he’s in awe. Keith might have impressed him for the second time today and it’s… it’s nice._ _ _

___After a few reps, Shiro suggests he tries something else and Keith follows, not really in the know when it comes to these things and given how comfortable Shiro seems to be in this room, Keith would be stupid to not learn all that he can while they’re here together. He doesn’t know if he’ll get a chance like this again._ _ _

___“Here,” Shiro says, handing Keith his water bottle. “Keep hydrated, too. I know I kind of whisked you away and brought you here unprepared but I figured you needed some sort of physical outlet for that anger. Didn’t need you taking it out on another student, or sneaking out again to get the shit kicked out of you.” He smirks and Keith shoves him, snatching the water bottle away and taking a chug without thinking. “Next time, you start to feel like you need to get out, you can come here. It’s open until curfew.”_ _ _

___But that last part doesn’t register because Keith just shared a drink with Shiro and he’s pretty sure that sorta counts as a kiss. Indirect kiss? Either way, his face lights up and he doesn’t think he’s blushed this much in his entire life combined._ _ _

___“I come here for the same reason,” Shiro continues._ _ _

___“And then you head back to the town.” Keith mumbles, mouth still pressed to the lip of the bottle. “Back home?” Shiro nods._ _ _

___“Unfortunately, they don’t have any gyms like this, and I can only drink myself silly every so often,” He chuckles, giving Keith that knowing look again. Sharing their little secret. Keith smiles._ _ _

___“How admirable.”_ _ _

___“Listen, if you had to deal with cadets all day, especially ones trying to pick fights with _everyone that looks at them wrong_ ,” He says pointedly. “You’d be looking for an fast outlet, too. This is my first year teaching. I’m fresh out of the program, you know?” _ _ _

___“Mm.” Keith hums, eyes scanning the room again. It’s thinning out. Must be getting close to curfew. Keith doesn’t really want this to end. He was just going to go back to his room and fuck around until he fell asleep. Now, he feels like he had something to do and going back to his room seems… lonely._ _ _

___“Keith,” Shiro says softly, catching his attention. “You’re doing fine.”_ _ _

___“Mm.” He hums again. “‘Course I am.” Shiro laughs at that._ _ _

___“You’re going to do great.” He concludes, giving Keith a warm smile as their eyes lock. Keith doesn’t remember the last time someone looked at him so kindly. Then Shiro, a complete stranger, comes along and he’s getting looks like that all the time. He doesn’t know how to take it. But, the looks are unwanted, either._ _ _

___Shiro walks him back to his room after the gym closes. Keith doesn’t want to admit he was lost but he ended up not having to because Shiro was going to walk him back anyway. There’s an awkward beat where neither know how to say goodbye to the other. Shiro ends up just placing a hand on Keith’s shoulder and telling him to get some rest._ _ _

___Keith’s back in his single room, requested specifically because he didn’t want to have to deal with anyone else, and he feels the heaviness of the silence. The lack of someone else being there weighs down on him and he thinks, “Maybe I should have invited Shiro in?”_ _ _

___And then what?_ _ _

____Stupid,_ he thinks to himself as he crawls in bed. Shiro’s just doing his job. But it doesn’t stop the warm that flickers in his chest as he thinks about the look on Shiro’s face as he lifted 300 lbs like it was nothing._ _ _

**Author's Note:**

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